


Rest With Peace Offerings

by The_Phantom_Prince



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Phantom_Prince/pseuds/The_Phantom_Prince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since being admitted to the hospital two weeks ago, Castiel has been wanting something and Meg is starting to get fed up with trying to figure out what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest With Peace Offerings

"I'm cold"

Meg didn't even need to look up from the year-old magazine to which she was only scantly paying attention to know just who was speaking to her. They went through this routine at least a dozen times a day, every damned day. Meg wasn't even sure at this point if the guy's internal thermostat was just as broken as his nut was these days, because Meg really didn't think that angels could even get cold, or if this was just another joke that no one but he found funny.

"You know where the spare blankets are, Castiel," Meg said, finally glancing up to throw a half-hearted glare in the angel's direction. She knew that there was little point in the comment; they both knew where this was going because they both knew that Castiel wasn't going anywhere until he got what he wanted. With a sigh of indignation, Meg stood up and tossed the stupid gossip mag onto the chair and strutted toward the extra linen closet.

If she closed the closed door with a little more force than necessary, well, Castiel didn't seem to have noticed. Turning back toward the ever-exasperating nutcase, she shoved the ratty, knitted blanket into his arms before moving to reclaim her seat at the other end of the recreational room.

Sitting back down, however, Meg happened a glance over the top of her stale magazine before returning to reading whatever article she had already read probably fifty times over. As soon as she looked up, she was met with the expectant gaze that only Castiel could manage, the one that said "I still want something and you should know what it is by this time and I don't understand why it is that you don't seem to be getting this." They held each other's stares for a matter of seconds before Castiel apparently gave up, not wanting even the silent confrontation, and averted his eyes to look down despondently at the offending cloth.

A second later, the blanket was lying, forgotten, on the stark white tile and Castiel was nowhere in sight.

With an agitated groan, Meg got to her feet once again and dropped her magazine onto the table next to her chair before starting down the hall where Castiel's private room was located, no doubt where the angel had run off to.

Throwing the door open, ignoring the slight jump that came from Castiel at the sudden intrusion on his room, Meg asked him irritatedly, "Damn it, Castiel, what is it that you want?"

The only response that Castiel gave was to look up at her curiously. This wasn't a usual extension of this insufferable game and Castiel was obviously lost on what to do now; most of the time, Meg just let the angel run off and waited for him to venture back out to bug her again with the same impossible request but this was the first time in the two weeks since they had gotten to the hospital that she had ever tried to actually reason with him and figure out what the angel was wanting.

Taking in a breath and letting out another sigh, Meg tried again. "Look, I know you're bat-shit crazy right now, Castiel, but you're a big boy. Use you're damn words." Still no reply and she added, "If you want me to help you, you gonna have to tell me what you want."

A pointed stare was directed at her as Castiel replied in an obvious tone the same damn words that always came out of his mouth. "I'm cold."

Before she could slap the sense out of the infuriating angel, or rather a whole lot more into him, Meg took a step back and tried to take a better look at the pitiful picture in front of her. Castiel was sitting cross-legged on his uncomfortable hospital bed, the stubble on his face noticeably over-grown from not being shaven in two weeks and his attention turned toward his dull, white gown, which he was staring at longingly as if something was missing.

Finally, the realization dawned on Meg and she figured out what was absent on Castiel's figure, noting somewhat subconsciously just how naked the angel looked without it, now that the had figured it out.

Meg turned on her heels and walked swiftly to the locker that she had been given in a break room that she shared with the other nurses to retrieve the object of Castiel's longing.

When she got back to the room, Castiel was watching the door, anxiously awaiting the demon's return. Who would have thought that they would end up like this, Azazel's wayward daughter and heaven's wayward angel? Seeing Meg holding out what she had retrieved in his direction as something of a peace offering, Castiel offers up a small smile.

Throwing his tan overcoat over his shoulders and pulling his arms through the designated holes, Castiel looks back up and says, "Thank you."

It's not much, Meg thinks, but it's a start in the right direction.


End file.
